


Where No Sunglasses Dipshit Has Gone Before

by viruxlent



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viruxlent/pseuds/viruxlent
Summary: Wesker must take on his most daring mission yet-- adventuring into a mall to obtain his precious grooming supplies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> dont laugh at me i wrote this when i was 16 for english class and also yeah don't mind the fact that Ada still works for him post re5 that was just a stupid plot hole I forgot about ok enjoy if u can lmao ┌༼▀̿ Ĺ̯▀̿༽┐

As a pressure system was activated, the big sliding doors of the mall opened obediently for the tall, ominous man dressed all in black; dark jeans, a black silk turtleneck, and a worn black coat with many pockets- in fact, his multi pocketed coat was his prized possession. More pockets equals more room for weapons.   
  
Removing his riding gloves and adjusting his dark shades, the blond glanced wearily at his surroundings and inhaled deeply the scent of multiple different fried foods, perfume, floor wax and, ugh, people.   
  
It was a truly horrible place. As adept and awesome as he was, even Wesker held a certain kind of fear for the social wastebin known as a 'mall'.   
  
He would rather not go here, but as luck would have it, he ran out of hair gel this morning and his 'personal secretary slash assassin' was on another one of her seclusive self-assigned missions (which apparently according to her contract, she's entitled to) with some bozo named Leonard or Larry or something, leaving him to fend for himself.   
  
Chin raised confidently, Wesker tensed his jaw and took a daring step forward-   
  
Into gum.   
  
_ I will not make it out of here alive if I'm not more careful _ , Albert reminded himself, curling his foot inward to look at the bottom of his shoe. The shiny black loafer squeaked worse than a cat giving birth as he scraped it on the floor, trying to get the gum off. Several people stopped and stared at him.   
  
"Agh humans!! I'm bombing all of you once I'm through acquiring your hair products!!" he belted out, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting.   
  
He huffed and took a moment to collect himself before casually ignoring all the stares and walking toward his destination; wherever that may be...   
  
He quickly realized he'd need to procure a map of this new frontier so as not to accidentally walk into a pet store and become emotionally compromised by mewling kittens.   
  
Mission objective: find a map.   
  
Wesker grunted in annoyance as the crowds of stupid apes constantly bumping into him and shoving him from behind or bolting into his line of direction or stopping dead in front of him. The mere seconds that passed breathing that heavy, musty air affirmed that Albert hated this place very much. The man tugged irritably at his collar, barely restraining his urge to pull a gun on everyone around him.   
  
Eventually he spotted a large map on the wall near a crossroads.   
  
In a blur of speed, Albert lunged toward the lit up poster of the mall's schematics. He studied it intently, as if he were decoding some ancient language.   
  
Beauty and cosmetics. 2nd floor.   
  
"Yessss."   
  
Wesker smirked and giggled evilly (as evil as a giggle can be) prompting a couple more people to raise a brow at his strange behavior, being as he looked fresh out of a Matrix convention, standing in front of a map giggling like he was a preteen spying on girls getting dressed.   
  
After his evil giggle fit, he sniffed and adjusted his sunglasses. "It is time." He announced to no one in particular.   
  
Making his own path by shoving people out of his way, Wesker finally entered the store and spotted his targets: the cans of hair gel shining gloriously atop their plexiglass thrones, waiting for him.   
  
Feet pounding dents into the floor, Wesker sprinted toward his prize, wearing a triumphant grin.   
  
Yes, he was about to complete his mission and get out of this sticky crap hole.   
  
And then... Albert made the fatal mistake of turning his gaze slightly to the left, peering into the soaps aisle just long enough for his eyes to catch on the unmistakable sight of a well-built middle-aged brunet male. Even as the man's back was turned, Albert knew exactly who it was.   
  
"..... chRIIIIIIISSSSS!!!!!"   
  
His shriek echoed through the entire wing of the mall, and the stubbled soldier spun around to face the noise, a look of shock on his face as he mouthed the word 'no'.   
  
In an instant, the large man was charging toward Albert at top speed with a deep scowl on his face. The blond could only yelp and make a futile grab for his hair gel, just as Chris snatched his pant leg and dragged him down to the floor with him.

  
"YOU BASTARD!! HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!" he yelled in Wesker's face, knife out and pressing against his throat. The smaller, being pinned, merely grabbed Chris's hand and pushed back on it, easily keeping the blade away from his skin while he smirked up Chris’s stupid gorilla face. "You haven't changed Chr-"   
  
"FREEZE!!" Two angry voices of security guards bellowed, interrupting their touching reunion.   



	2. Chapter 2

The bench was cold and hard, mostly because it was made of metal, but also because the blond was locked in the same cell as his awkwardly-friend-zoned-almost-boyfriend-but-mostly-nemesis, who always gave him a feeling of dread and slight coldness in his posterior for some unknown reason. Perhaps it might be a medical condition...

Now that the brunette had gotten over his initial (borderline homicidal) bitterness and accepted the situation, Wesker was sitting safely on his side of the bench without injury, ignoring Chris as he paced the floor without aim. After about an hour, Albert was certain he could see a slight groove being worn into the concrete.

While Chris continued his nervous habits, Wesker leaned back with his hands folded in his lap, staring at the small television mounted on the wall just outside the bars, which Chris kept cutting off his vision to every time he paced by.

"Would you sit down? You're giving me motion sickness." he finally said.

Chris ignored the grievance, breaking into an angry rant that somehow Wesker knew was coming before he even opened his mouth. 

"How are you alive?! You fell into lava! I shot you with a rocket! TWO rockets!!"

"Technically," Albert cut in, "you shot ONE rocket. Your lovely accomplice shot the other-"

"SHUT UP!! Why the hell won't you stay dead?! Do I have to grind you into dust and scatter you across separate oceans just to get you off my back?!" He snapped his head toward the blond, demanding an answer.

Albert caught his glare and shrugged lazily. "You're looking at me like I should know something...."

"You should!"

"Well, I don't." he chirped.

Chris growled and grabbed the front of Wesker’s shirt roughly, wanting to strangle him with every fiber of his being, or at least break his nose.

"I don’t believe you."

The blond merely smirked, cocking his head with a slight breath of a laugh. "Oh my, attacking your cell mate. Predictable, Chris. I oughta sue you for assault. Twice."

"Shut up! Don't say my name like that!"

"Quit being such a baby. If you had half a brain in that thick head of yours, you'd have noticed when I broke the lock off the door as soon as the guard left."

Chris's face went blank as he stared right at him, dark brows furrowed. "You... What?"

"Wow. No wonder you can't get through missions without a babysitter." Albert remarked, fishing the broken metal out of his pocket.

The brunet dropped Wesker back on his rear and stepped to the cell door, giving it a good shove- it creaked open without resistance. How did he not notice that?!

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" Chris exploded, balling his fists. He turned the most hateful glare he could muster to the other man, but honestly he just looked ridiculous, like he was trying really hard not to drop a monster shit into his pants.

"How long were you gonna let me pace around like an idiot when we could have left over an hour ago?!"

Wesker didn't particularly enjoy being yelled at so excessively. "It was an amusing development. I saw no reason to rush out the door. Unlike you, I enjoy the time we spend together.”

"Un-fucking-believable!! I'm going to kill you!!"

"Doubtful."

Chris huffed, storming out of the cell with Albert in tow, however, as soon as the brunet reached the security desk, he snatched his confiscated handgun from the table and spun around, aiming it at Wesker's forehead.

"... really?" The blond drawled. "Chris, you're literally the least of my concerns right now. Thanks to you, I have to venture back into that cesspit of human filth and get my hair gel, this time without the kind intervention of the authorities." He pushed the muzzle of the gun away from his head casually and sauntered past the blank-faced brunet.

Chris just turned on his heel and stared at the man as he walked away. He made a strangled groaning noise and after twitching his finger on the trigger several times, finally lowered and pocketed it.

He scoffed, shaking his head. There Wesker was, just walking away. Clean shot, back of skull, top it off with a severed head and a woodchipper and 90% of his problems are instantly solved.

But no, Chris wasn't ready to carry it out yet. Certainly not like this.

_No, if I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill him right. What am I gonna tell my friends? That I killed the world's greatest threat, Albert Wesker at the supermarket? No, I need an epic story of heroism and struggle and sacrifice. That's the legacy of Chris Redfield!!_

He didn't realize, but he had been staring into space with his fist raised as he narrated himself. Wesker was looking back at him through the doorway and shaking his head slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank for reading lmaoooo *throws shade*


End file.
